


Promise to a Friend

by Ceallaigh



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Gap Filler, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-03
Updated: 2010-06-03
Packaged: 2017-10-09 21:38:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/91871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ceallaigh/pseuds/Ceallaigh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Originally a challenge from Nashvillain to do a little role reversal on some dialogue that first appeared in Dead Things. So yes, that is why some of the dialogue is familiar.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Promise to a Friend

**Author's Note:**

> Originally a challenge from Nashvillain to do a little role reversal on some dialogue that first appeared in Dead Things. So yes, that is why some of the dialogue is familiar.

"Can you help me?" he begged her, his eyes filled with fear and desperation. Whatever this thing was - from beneath us - it had broken him, and Buffy had never seen him so scared as he was tonight.

"I'll help you," she answered. Maybe she'd been too hard on him since he'd returned. Before it was so easy to ignore his problems. Had monsters to slay. Baddies to stop. But she'd seen his penance in that tiny chapel. He'd changed, and maybe it was time for her to do the same.

A look of relief washed across his face, and Spike nodded his thanks. With the back of one hand, he swiped at the tears streaking his face before hiding once again behind his hands. She'd seen him cry only once before. And it was over the soul that time, too.

He'd done it all for her, and now he was suffering. It wasn't his fault. He'd wanted the soul to be a better man. But he was right; all it did was burn him.

The air still stank like ashes. Bitter and oddly metallic, vamp dust had a stench all of its own. Nothing romantic about it. It reeked like death, and made her stomach turn even after years of slaying. She was sure Spike smelled it too. He certainly didn't need any reminders. He'd had his share of death to last quite a while.

The whole room definitely had a bad vibe. Whatever was messing with them was still there. For the first time, she felt it touch everything around her. Its cold and oily presence chilled her to the bone. It wasn't some rogue demon she could easily slay. No, this thing was so much worse. It knew their weaknesses and wasn't afraid to exploit them. It was setting them all up one at a time, and she wasn't sure when it would knock them down. But one thing was certain--it was still very much with them, and it wasn't leaving any time soon.

It was up to her to make the first move. Pulling herself to a stand, she dusted the dirt off her pants. When he didn't follow her lead, she said, "We have to go."

"What did I do?" he whispered to himself, his face a mask of horrified disbelief as though he didn't trust his own memories.

She didn't expect him to leap up immediately and follow her out, but she wasn't prepared for the leaden apathy that had crept into him. Anchored to a spot on the floor, he didn't move a muscle. Before he could retreat back into a ball, Buffy added a bit more forcefully, "There's nothing we can do here. We have to go, Spike."

Without saying a word, he slowly hauled himself to his feet and followed her to the stairs. But the empty graves called to him, stopped him dead in his tracks. His jaw clenched tight and he screwed his eyes shut. "I killed them," he said, his voice small and distant.

She grabbed him by the elbow and tried to steer him up the stairs. The longer they were down there, the harder it would be to get him out. "It wasn't your fault."

"I killed them all."

"I'm gonna get you home. We'll sort this out, I promise. You're gonna have to trust me, Spike."

The boards creaked beneath their feet with every step they took. She waited for him to reach the tiny kitchen above before turning back to flip off the lights and close the basement door.

Slipping out the back door, she led him through the shadows to where she'd parked her Cherokee around the block. They would deal with the mess in the basement tomorrow.

Spike mirrored her actions as she got into the jeep, even clicking the seatbelt safely in place before she turned the key and put the vehicle in gear. Three blocks from Sacramento Boulevard, they were on the far end of town from her home. It'd be faster to hop on the highway than to weave through downtown.

He sat in the seat next to her, but it felt like he was a million miles away. His hands rested motionlessly in his lap as he stared out the window murmuring wordlessly to himself. Maybe he hadn't gone insane. Could those voices he kept hearing be real? If that were the case, then he'd been this evil's unknowing pawn far longer than anyone knew.

The white lane markers whipped by on the road beneath them as the jeep sped down the highway, and the headlights from oncoming traffic cast a glare on the windshield. She needed to call Xander. They needed to have a meeting, rally the troops and come up with a game plan. The ball was in her court, and she had to prepare for battle.

"Pull the car over," he said weakly over the hum of the engine. When she didn't answer, he groaned, "Pull the bloody car over. Think I'm gonna be sick."

It was a simple request, and she quickly pulled the jeep to side of the highway. The gravel crunched below the tires as the vehicle came to a stop on the shoulder of the road. He fumbled with the seatbelt before the car door flung open and he staggered out. He only made it a few steps into the grass before he sank to his knees, his whole body heaving as he lurched forward.

Buffy put the Cherokee in park and followed him out into the night. Cars streamed past her as she ran around the vehicle to reach him. He was nothing more than another tiny shadow cast against many, crouched in a ball on the grass. A small pool of vomit between his knees soaked slowly into the turf. Hands planted firmly on the ground, he gagged once more, adding the last contents of his stomach to the puddle.

She knelt beside him as his body started to shake with uncontrollable shivers. His eyes were tightly shut, his face twisted with anguish. Very gently, she placed her hand on his shoulder. His eyes snapped open and his whole body tensed in response.

"No more," he whispered  over the din of the highway. "Please..."

And that's when she realized he wasn't talking to her. It was still there, taunting him, clawing at him from the darkness.

Slowly she stood, her fists balled at her side ready for battle. Cars screamed past one after another, and the wind, heavy with the threat of rain, blew around them. "Leave him alone!" she yelled into the night. "He did what you wanted!"

Of course there was no reply to her demands. The rain that had been promised all day finally began to fall, stirring up the tarry scent of asphalt and dirt. A bolt of lightning flashed across the starless sky, and thunder pealed gently in the distance. "C'mon," she said extending a hand to help him to his feet, "let's go home."

It didn't take much coaxing this time to get him back in the car, but there was no mistaking the uncomfortable silence that lasted until she pulled the car into the garage behind her house.

"Don't think this a good idea after all," he said.

"I said I would help you," she reminded him. A nod acknowledged the promise.

He followed her out of the car. As they headed toward the house, Spike started lag behind whispering, "I can't," over and over again.

With her key already in the lock, Buffy replied, peering into the yard as though she saw something hidden in the inky shadows, "Is it here right now?"

He shook his head and silently answered.

"Then what's wrong?"

He seemed hesitant to reply, looking away for a moment as though he were gathering his thoughts. A shaky breath, then, "I don't want to hurt you again," he tried to explain, his voice wavering. "Don't want to bring _that thing_ into your home."

"Oh, I think Evil Avon already came knocking here a few weeks ago," she answered. "Decided it didn't like the way we decorated the living room, so it went all Trading Spaces on Dawn one night."

She waited for him to meet her on the porch before going in the back door. Dawn was still up, spooning globs of peanut butter into her mouth. "What happened to your arm?" she asked, punctuating her question with the empty spoon.

"Vampire," Buffy answered. It wasn't a lie, but Dawn so did not need to know all the details just yet. She wasn't sure how she'd react to their new houseguest and didn't want to fan any potential flames. She was well aware of her sister's rather blunt threat to remedy the Spike situation with a match and a bottle of kerosene. Hoping for a quick and painless détente, she stepped aside and let Spike enter the kitchen as well.

"Why is he here?" Dawn sneered not missing a beat. Her eyes locked with Spike's for a fleeting second before she won the stare down and he quickly averted his gaze.

The room felt like it dropped a handful of degrees. Without even realizing it, she slid herself between Spike and Dawn, shielding him from any retaliation. "I told you," she explained, "we ran into some vamps."

"So?" The spoon clattered in the sink. "That wasn't a recipe for bringing him here before. He can go back to Xander's and do crazy there."

Buffy didn't let Dawn's attempts at bullying stop her. "Is Willow still up?" She strode into the dining room only to be met by a pile of Dawn's geometry homework.

"What?" Dawn answered, the question clearly caught her off guard and temporarily diffused the situation. "No, she went to bed a little while ago. What's going on?"

Buffy paused long enough to coax Spike into the living room. "I need you to wake her up and call Xander. Tell him to get Anya on the way here. We need a meeting." Action girl, it's what she did best. No time to explain now, and she didn't want to have to do it twice once the rest of the gang arrived.

"Buffy," Dawn began to whine.

"Something happened tonight, okay?" she snapped. "To Spike. Something bad. So, please, quit wasting time and do what I told you."

Turning her attention to Spike she tried to take his rain-soaked jacket but he refused, shrinking away from her gentle touch. Dawn stomped past them making as much noise as possible on her way up the stairs. A knock on Willow's door, then finally silence.

"You're freezing," Buffy noted as her hand brushed across his, but he pulled away as though he'd been scalded. He was still shivering. It never really did vamish, but was noticeable more than ever.

"I should go," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. He paced aimlessly, lost and out of place. "This isn't right."

"Let me help you," Buffy answered. She grabbed the fuzzy blue throw that had been discarded on the couch and draped it over his shoulders. Instead of flinching, he wrapped it around himself even tighter. The resistance drained out of him almost immediately, and he let her guide him into the chair beside the fireplace. She smoothed the blanket over his arms and dropped to a kneel before him. "This thing, it's messing with all of us. And if we're going to beat it-whatever it is-I'm going to need your help as well. If it shows up here and starts talking to you, I want you to let me know, okay?"

A nod was all she got in response.

"Xander and Anya will be her in a little bit, and I'm gonna need to talk to everyone about what happened." His eyes slid shut and he retreated behind the blanket a bit more. "I'm gonna let them know it wasn't your fault, but if you want to talk to them..."

"I can't," he interrupted, never once looking up.

"Then you don't have to," she soothed. "We'll get through this. We always do. And right now, I think you're going to be safer if you stay here, okay?"

He nodded one more time as Buffy heard Dawn and Willow come down the stairs. Thankfully they took the long way around to the kitchen and gave them some privacy. She didn't know what they were facing, but somehow it was comforting with her friends safely under one roof tonight. He'd been her friend when the others didn't understand what she'd been going through a year ago. He'd always been there for her whether she wanted it or not. And perhaps tonight was the night to forgive the past and return the favor and be there for him. They'd sit, they'd research, they'd fight the good fight. It was what friends did.

Until then she was content to sit with Spike as he tried unsuccessfully to chase his demons away.

She didn't hear Xander's car drive up, nor did she see its headlights cast long shadows across the wall. The back door opened and the kitchen was filled with tired voices.

"Buffy, they're here," Willow announced as the gang settled into the breakfast nook off the kitchen.

"I've gotta go," she told Spike as she got up. "I'll be in the other room if you need me."

She'd made a promise to a friend and wasn't going to break it.


End file.
